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Background and Related Biblical Scholarship

This article examines how Jesus was depicted in ancient Christian sarcophagi. Readers will need some knowledge of recent Biblical scholarship for this to make sense.

Sophisticated theories on the origins of Christianity have emerged in the past few decades that challenge the accepted story.  Under the Christian tradition, Christianity originated as the following of a persecuted righteous man, born at the start of the Roman empire who was also God incarnate and whose death on a crucifix included vicarious atonement for all sinners. Until the 18th century, the only aspects of this view to be contested by most scholars was the divinity of the story's main figure, Jesus, also called the Messiah or Christ, both  meaning the anointed one. Recent analyses of Christian origins have introduced hypotheses previously unthinkable to the western Christian world.  Today’s scholarship explores not only the non-divinity of Jesus, but the non-existence of Jesus.

Modern scholars now attack the problem of Christian origins with critical analysis, organized peer review, vigorous skepticism, and the tools of science. This impressive body of work (which, incidentally, does not include the output of Dan Brown, Da Vinci Code author and self-proclaimed expert on Christian apocrypha) has not resulted in anything resembling consensus. Some writers, such as Luke Timothy Johnson, have investigated the facts and concluded that Jesus was indeed who the Church said he was, and that Christianity developed as the Church said it did. Others such as Timothy Freke and Peter Gandy assert that the Jesus story developed after participants of a new cult, Christianity, had spun off from a pagan mystery religion such as Mithraism. It is a mistake to dismiss Johnson as a mere apologist or to dismiss Freke and Gandy as anti-apologist atheists.

Some theories involve multiple origins of a Christian myth - several famous sages, revolutionaries, apocalyptic prophets, philosophers or holy men being forged together at a time when one of the many sects of feuding Christians emerged victorious in the third and fourth centuries. Those concluding that a single man is at the roots of Christianity still do not all agree on the time of his famous deeds, but most agree on a period between 100 BC (BCE if you prefer) and 80 AD (CE). If this date range comes as a surprise, note that some of the earliest Christian writers seemed to have the same problem assigning a date - even some fairly late ones, such as Epiphanius of Salamis in the late 4th century. Since the gospels of the New Testament do place Jesus in a specific time and setting, one must consider the possibility that the versions of the books of the Bible available to these early Christians lacked information that is present in the version we read today. There is considerable evidence to support this possibility.  The scholar Earl Doherty, for example, holds that Christianity began with a mythical Christ long before its followers "fleshed out" their ethereal savior by creating stories about his earthly dealings and interactions with famous persons.

Studying early Christianity is hard - incredibly hard - because the written evidence has been tampered with. This statement may sound like conspiracy theory, but must be recognized as conspiracy fact.  Church fathers conspired to erase some of the history of early Christianity as evidenced by their own testimony in church documents and the edicts of Roman Christian rulers. Virtually all early Christian texts, including all books of the New Testament, describe doctrinal disputes - sometimes vicious ones. Most early Christian writings include accusations of forgery by other Christian sects. Victorious sects declared competing Christian books heretical and ordered their destruction. Modern Christians address the problem of uncertain Christian origins by either believing that what is now deemed orthodox was from the start the "real" Christianity or merely by having faith that centuries of church fathers, directed by the hand of God, correctly selected the factual books and discarded the bogus ones.  Acceptance of this theory necessarily also implies that early church fathers selected the correct versions and redactions of the books of the canon - a collection that took centuries to congeal. The difficulty of this task is not appreciated by readers unaware that there are virtually no two identical, early manuscripts of any of the books that make up the Bible.

Those engaged in scriptural exegesis (critical interpretation) practice a form of literary archaeology, peeling back layers of redaction, extracting sources from merged texts, and identifying places where blocks of text have been removed or relocated. Writers like Burton Mack, Bart Ehrman, G.A. Wells, Robert Price, and Gerd Lüdemann have done an impressive job at this, as have many of the contributors to the Yahoo Jesus Mysteries forum. This is painstaking work requiring discipline and objectivity.  It is not a realm for the biased or those who seek to justify pre-formed conclusions.
 

Carved in Stone

One tool for investigating early Christianity, it seems to us, has been grossly overlooked. Christian sarcophagi, by their nature, are much less vulnerable to being revised to change their details or meaning than are written materials. We say this despite the merciless "restoration" work visible on many of the sarcophagi, performed by antique dealers seeking to increase an item's value or by apologists overcome by anxiety about the lack of crosses in early Christian art. These restorations are usually very apparent, and rarely obscure the original composition (occasionally providing humor, when the deceased woman's portrait is recarved as Jesus, or when a soldier is recarved as Peter). Furthermore, extant sarcophagi have come down to us through a much more random (less biased) process than have Christian texts, which, independent of any rewriting, have been selected for their suitability to ecclesiastic agendas while others were either banned or simply abandoned and forgotten. Where we have only tiny scraps of the earliest Christian manuscripts, there is a wealth of ancient information written in stone that can be inspected first-hand by anyone with access to the world's great museums and churches. To be sure, some sarcophagi have been reworked to make their imagery conform to current theology, and others are modern forgeries. But a large number exist, particularly in Rome, whose imagery can be solidly identified as 4th and 5th century work. Surprisingly, this imagery tells stories somewhat different from those of the Gospels.

No Christian sarcophagi can be firmly traced to earlier than the third century, and even these are rare and disputed. Various theories have been proposed for this lack of evidence of early Christianity. Some suggest, on the basis of Exodus 20:4 ("shall not make for yourself an idol"), that the earliest Christians were aniconic (rejected icons) like the Jews of the same period. This thesis is flawed on several fronts. For one, existing evidence refutes the claim that Judaism was aniconic from pre-Christian times into the 6th century. 20th century excavations at Dura Europos revealed an early synagogue with rich iconography. More interesting still, the iconography at Dura Europos appears rather unrelated to the Christian iconography of the same period. Furthermore, the earliest Christian writers report that Christian clothing and household objects were richly decorated with biblical illustrations. These early writers, such as Tertullian (On Modesty, 7.1) and Clement of Alexandria (The Instructor, 3.11.59 - " let our seals be either a dove, or a fish, or a ship scudding before the wind, or a musical lyre...") did not appear to be critical of such usages of Christian art. Charles Murray, in his exhaustive investigation, concluded that there was no real condemnation by early church fathers of non-idolatrous iconography in the early centuries of Christianity.

A more likely reason for the lack of Christian art before the fourth century is that the number of Christians was very small.  Written accounts purporting that Christians were an important component of first and second century Rome, are now increasingly thought to be later forgeries. For example, the brief mentions of Christianity in Josephus and Suetonius are sufficiently problematic (e.g., brevity, inconsistent language, lack of citation by subsequent writers whose point would benefit from citing it) to raise questions of their authenticity. Likewise, Tacitus's description of the "vast multitude" of Christians persecuted by Nero is inconsistent with other contemporaneous Roman histories and even the descriptions of Paul's ministry in Rome in the Acts of the Apostles suggest that Christianity was a small club at the time of Nero.  This passage of Tacitus may well be an embellishment by a fifth century Christian scribe. Eusebius, church historian of the fourth century, makes no mention of this passage, when it clearly would have been in his interest to do so.  Several modern writers have proposed that Christianity was basically a Roman invention - one that occurred in the last decades of the second century. They hold that Acts was written at that late time, in attempt both to meld together the largely unrelated epistles of Paul and certain of the large body of then-circulating Gospels. Perhaps more importantly - at least for Christianity's presence in Rome - Acts introduces - and develops at great length – the idea of apostolic succession, absent from the Gospels, but absolutely essential to a hierarchically organized sect of Christianity that was the ancestor to Catholicism. Acts, not Paul’s own writings, placed Paul in Rome. Christian tradition, not any text of the Bible, placed Peter in Rome.

Whether Christians were present in Rome before the third century - or whether they existed at all before then - scant archaeological evidence exists [1]. The late third century then shows an explosion in popularity of biblical themes, probably the result of the rapid growth of Christian sects at that time. Ancient writings indicate a considerable variation in beliefs between these sects; they show Gnostic and Docetic elements to various degrees. Marcionism and Valentinism, against which the church fathers railed, were quite popular in Rome. Although vicious doctrinal disputes between sects existed, these could be characterized as brutal wars of small differences - fine points that modern Christians might not recognize. These sects were, for the most part, either extinguished or absorbed by what later became orthodoxy. Their writings are commonly referred to by the misleading term, apocrypha. As stressed by David Cartlidge, the term brands these books as clandestine; and they were nothing of the sort. Despite later condemnation by church authorities, and the insinuation that these books all derived from those later judged to be orthodox, there is no basis for the notion that those who used these books saw themselves as being part of splinter groups, or that the distinction of orthodox was in any way meaningful in the third century. Some writings, such as those of Theophilus of Antioch and the Epistle of Mathetes to Diognetus, discuss "Christianity" at length with no mention of a Christ or Jesus, or any earthly figure at the religion's root. Christian tradition and the fourth century church history of Eusebius tell a different story; but tradition can drift over the centuries, and Eusebius's writings show other signs of pious misrepresentations, fabrications, or error.  Hence, these sarcophagi are interesting.

As mentioned above, carvings in marble, unlike tradition and copied texts, do not drift over time. Granted, the fourth century sarcophagi in Rome, due to limitations of their medium, cannot provide the details of Christian belief given by the books of the New Testament or the writings of the early church fathers. But they do tell quite a bit; and of what they do tell we can be certain, since it is carved in stone. Christian sarcophagi have mainly been the focus of the fields of history of art and Christian apologetics and devotion. There has been an astounding lack of interest in Christian art by those involved in the study of Christian origins, an enterprise almost solely devoted to ancient texts. We propose that opportunities abound for synthesis and interdisciplinary study.
 

Imagery of a New Faith

Of 412 total scenes, we counted 68 where Jesus or Peter use wands to perform miracles. Occasionally, Moses and Ezekiel also use a wand to bring water from a stone or to resurrect dry bones. Also, very rarely, Jesus carries a wand but is not using it to conduct power by contact. That sarcophagi miracles are represented as magic, by virtue of the wand (virga), deserves more study than it has received. Nowhere in the Bible is there any indication that Jesus would use a wand. Apologists have attempted to explain it as a staff of authority, but nowhere has it been depicted with Jesus in any role of authority. The meaning of a wand would have been completely unambiguous in ancient times; it was the primary symbol of magic in eastern and western art of the period. The wand is a common symbol of the Roman mystery cults, whose savior-heroes, like Jesus, performed magic healing, and whose followers formed intense personal bonds with a savior-hero.

Modern Christianity succeeds in differentiating between magic and divine powers, but this was not always the case. Celsus (a pagan writer), as quoted by the Christian writer Origen, asked whether we should regard all the other magicians trained by the Egyptians as son of God also. Origen, in his multi-volume diatribe against Celsus, did not claim that Jesus' magic itself was unique. He instead argued about its source. Early Christian writers describe contests of magic between Peter and Simon the Magus. Justin Martyr made desperate, but rather unconvincing attempts to differentiate Jesus' magic. The fourth century bishop, Athanasius, largely responsible for the selection of books that make up the New Testament (although proto-canons appear to have existed, at least regionally, much earlier), tied himself in a bit of a logical knot, explaining that Jesus was not a magician, but that his magic triumphed over that of other magicians. Morton Smith, in a compelling but technically flawed 20th century work, also claimed that Jesus was a human sorcerer. This interesting topic is outside the realm of our study. We make no assumptions or conclusions about the historicity or nature of Jesus; we are merely concerned with how Romans pictured him in artworks and in texts, from which it is impossible to tell  whether they perceived him as earthly man or god, an ethereal god who operated in a sphere not accessible to mortals, or the hero of written works of fiction.

Jesus' wand almost always appears with the multiplication of loaves and fishes, but is never used for healing the blind man, the paralytic, or the woman with an issue of blood. These healing scenes instead involve direct bodily contact - the laying on of hands. Margaret Jensen suggests that early Christians may have thus seen healing as a less magical feat, performable by mere wise men, differentiating "medicine" from real magic. The biblical Jesus defends himself against accusation of being a magician. It seems unlikely that Jesus would have confused his audience by denouncing magic while using a magician's wand, particularly if his message was that the source of his healing power was God the Father. Thus we cannot reconcile certain parts of the Gospels with some of what we see on the sarcophagi.

The wand was not merely an artistic device to ensure that viewers could identify the scriptural miracle being shown. Scenes of Lazarus, the miracle at Cana, and the loaves and fishes did not require the wand to allow their association to the biblical stories for anyone even remotely familiar with the biblical stories. If viewers were expected to recognize less dramatic scenes like the abduction of Habakkuk and Jesus before Pilate, they certainly wouldn't need to see a wand in order to recognize the resurrection of Lazarus. It thus seems fairly certain that at least the typical 4th-century Christian consumers of sarcophagi pictured Jesus as a magician - a divinely powered one perhaps, but a magician nonetheless. Apologists have argued that such imagery could be the product of those on the fringe of orthodoxy or of illiterates without firsthand access to the scriptures. This argument is weak on several counts. First, since the magician images are the most common images on Christian sarcophagi of the period, we must conclude that if they were out of step with authors of scriptures or other early Christian writings, then, by definition, it was those writers who were in the minority position and therefore out of step with popular belief. Second, portraits of the deceased holding scrolls on many sarcophagi indicate that they were in fact educated and literate. Finally, illiterate peasants would not likely be able to afford ornate marble sarcophagi.

By our count, the two most common scenes from scriptures appearing on sarcophagi both involve wands. The most common is the well known story of multiplication of loaves and fishes - actually, stories, since the four canonical Gospels include six descriptions of feeding the multitude - all describe feeding the 5000 (GMt 14:17, GMk 6:37, GLk 9:13, GJn 6:7), and only Mark and Matthew include the 4000 (GMt 15:32, GMk 8.1). Multiplication of loaves and fishes appear in all four canonical gospels, and in quite a few others. This is the only miracle story common to all canonical Gospels. The number of baskets represented on sarcophagi varies, probably due to space and composition limitations. There seems to be some interaction of the multiplication of loaves and Eucharist scenes, although the latter never correlates with a Last Supper. The number of guests in all Eucharist scenes is seven, a possible reference to the post-resurrection appearance to the seven disciples (GJn 21). For Clement of Alexandria, the loaves represent the Jewish Law "and the fishes signified the Hellenic philosophy that was produced and moved in the midst of the Gentile billow, given, as they were, for copious food to those lying on the ground, increasing no more, like the fragments of the loaves, but having partaken of the Lord's blessing" (Stromata 6.11.94).

Since the most repeated miracle story in the Bible is the story most commonly shown on sarcophagi, it may come as a surprise that the second most common sarcophagus scene does not appear in the Bible at all. Nor is it ever mentioned by early church fathers in extant writings. However, it does appear in the apocryphal book, Acts of Saints Processus and Martinianus. In it Peter strikes a rock and produces water, echoing Moses in exodus 17:6, and then baptizes his jailers. Roman Christian tradition holds that this event took place in the Mamertine Prison (Tullianum), on the Capitoline Hill in Rome. The prominence of this image, and absence of its story from the Bible, suggest to us that Christianity in Rome was far less catholic than what was reported by the church fathers including Clement of Rome, Clement of Alexandria, Ignatius, Irenaeus, Origen, and even Eusebius. Peter is again the subject of the fourth most common sarcophagus image - the related scene of his capture and arrest, again not present in the canon. Joseph Wilpert concluded that the images of Peter's arrest were derived from the story of his arrest by Herod Agrippa (Acts 12:3-19). This seems highly improbable, given that Peter's water miracle is absent from Acts, the Roman dress of his jailers, and the persistent tradition of Peter in Rome [2]. Furthermore, none of Peter's miracles that actually do appear in Acts ever appear on sarcophagi. Some of Peter's miracles from Acts would make impressive carvings, such as his resurrection of Tabitha or his miraculous murder of Ananias and Sapphira. The popularity of the image of Peter's arrest on sarcophagi might be seen as supporting the assertion that Christianity is primarily a product of Rome, and continues the propaganda work of Acts, serving to locate Peter in Rome, thereby strengthening the apostolic-succession argument for Rome's claim to the seat of Christianity (before such efforts were made unnecessary by Rome's official adoption of the new religion). 

Occurrences of the most popular images are shown in the large table below, grouped by the sarcophagus on which they occur. Less common scenes are listed in a second table, grouped by image name. Of the scenes listed above, 196, or just under 50%, include Jesus. Seventy three (17%) depict Peter. Of Jesus' miracles, about 45% include wand usage, and 1/3 involve healing by direct contact. Just over 1/4 of the sarcophagus scenes are from the Old Testament, including several Old Testament books whose canonicity is disputed. The most common Old Testament book represented is Daniel, the basis for six sarcophagus scenes, including 18 images (4% of total) of Daniel in the lions' den. Scenes not present in most versions of Daniel, but present on the sarcophagi, include the judgment of Susanna, Habakkuk in his field, and Bel and the dragon. We are specifically excluding a large number of images of the good shepherd from our count. Despite gospel references (e.g., GJn 10.11 - "I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep."), Christian use of the shepherd on sarcophagi is identical to the pagan use of the same image for charity, and cannot really be correlated to a Bible story.

Perhaps more interesting than the frequency of images not central to modern Christianity is what does not appear in sarcophagus images. Nowhere is seen any liaison between Jesus and God the Father. There is no passion, no last supper, no crucifixion, no post-resurrection appearances, no annunciation, few nativity scenes or images of Paul, and no infancy stories beyond the visit from the magi.

Pagan antecedents of Jonah on the beach

The raising of Lazarus (6th most common sarcophagus image) is the only New Testament scene on the Jonah Sarcophagus. Jensen and others read this image as foretelling the resurrection of Jesus. Perhaps so, but since the wand is always present, and the Lazarus image usually accompanies other wand-miracle images, it is equally likely that the Lazarus image celebrates Jesus' magic healing powers like the other scenes where he uses a wand. The imagery we are calling "Lazarus" (John 11:38-44) also correlates with the story of the resurrection of an anonymous man in the Secret Gospel of Mark (Secret Mark), a gospel known only from a quote recorded in a letter of Clement of Alexandria:

As with many of the other images, the rendering of the Lazarus story departs from the text. Instead of a burial cave with a stone covering, the carved images show an above-ground structure with a facade common to Roman temples. This may simply indicate a Roman idealization of burial, and may be influenced by the interest ancient Romans took in more ancient Egyptian cults and myths. Texts now known from pyramids of the 5th and 6th dynasties bear a striking similarity to the sarcophagus imagery, and, in fact, do relate to a resurrection story - that of Osiris:

The relatively high rate of Old Testament scenes (25%), Daniel and Jonah in particular, reveal a different focus than that of later Christianity. It seems odd to us that Jonah and Daniel as metaphors for Christ's resurrection would be given such attention, when virtually no images related to the resurrection appear. Images of the empty tomb and the ascended Christ appear later in Christian art, but rarely on sarcophagi, particularly sarcophagi bearing other images with scriptural parallels. Ernest Cadman Colwell argued that common sarcophagus scenes such as the sacrifice of Isaac, Noah in the ark, Jonah and Daniel all, in fact, do appear in the New Testament as references to the Old Testament text. Thus it is possible that these secondary references were the basis for the sarcophagus images. But this is a stretch. Daniel, for example is mentioned in name only (GMt 24:15 - mentions Daniel's reference to the abomination of desolation) and perhaps an oblique reference in Hebrews to prophets who shut the mouths of lions. One possibility is simply that details of Jesus' resurrection were unknown or undeveloped in oral tradition and writings of early Christianity. Readers who find this prospect incredible should note that early versions of GMk stopped at chapter 16, giving no explanation of the empty tomb and reporting no post-resurrection appearances. It's also worth noting the author of 1Clement (known as Clement of Rome) appears to have no knowledge of any of the Gospel events; he never mentions them.

The popularity of images of Daniel can also likely be linked to magic. Daniel is described in the book of Daniel as being a magician whose magic, sourced by his God, greatly surpasses that of all the Chaldeans and the magicians of Nebuchadnezzar's court. This parallel to Jesus - superior magic - might well be the reason for Daniel's being the most common Old Testament image on sarcophagi, as opposed to the weak metaphorical relationship between Daniel's survival in the lions' den and Jesus' "survival" of crucifixion.

Peter always uses a wand to draw water from the rock in his prison; but unlike Jesus, he also sometimes carries a wand but is not in the act of using it. According to the apocryphal Acts of Peter, possibly written as early as the second century, Peter often found himself in magician showdowns. He defeated his nemesis by making a dog talk and resurrecting a smoked fish in response to Simon's (the magus) levitation trick. But it seems likely that Peter's unique position as wand-bearer at rest does more that assert his magical prowess. It seems likely that Peter's wand serves as a constant reminder that Jesus has passed his powers as well as his authority to Peter, a message essential to the concept of apostolic succession, securing Rome's position as the seat of the Christian church. Thus Peter's wand actually serves as a combination magic wand and staff of authority. Peter's wand thus falls perfectly in line with the young Roman Catholic church's reliance on the concept of apostolic succession in its defense against rival forms of Christianity now known as heresies [3].

The centrality of the apostolic-succession argument is well shown by Irenaeus in his attack on Valentinus, a rival Christian leader in Rome, and others he called heretics:

Later arguments against Christianity by pagans identified similarities between Jesus and other legendary healers of the day including Apollonius of Tyana, Orpheus of Thrace, and Asclepius. As with Jesus, there was and still is debate as to the extent that these legends were based on living people or were the products of fiction. Unlike the case of Jesus, no imagery of the other healers exists that shows them in the act of healing. If this type of image is in fact a Christian invention, it might partially account for Christianity's explosion of popularity in 4th century Rome, a place where it appears the citizens had grown tired of the impersonal and static imagery of state gods.

Paul appears in very few images. His name is inscribed in one fragment containing his easily identifiable image. His appearance on this fragment matches the description of him in the non-canonical Acts of Paul. Wilpert considered this piece to be a modern forgery. Another fragment may contain a reference to the apocryphal Acts of Paul and Thecla. The fragment shows Paul commanding a sailing ship named Thecla. If this is truly a reference to the martyr, Thecla, in Acts of Paul, it is an indirect one. Images related to Paul's arrest (mentioned in the epistles and in Acts), and his martyrdom (non-canonical Acts of Paul only) appear on a few of the later sarcophagi.
 

Summary

We find that a high percentage of sarcophagus images related to scriptural texts (whether canonical or not) depict acts that would be immediately identified by ancient viewers as magic. Surprisingly, patristic writings reinforce this view of Jesus as magician, but specify that his powers came from a different source than those of other magicians. Jesus is the most common figure on the sarcophagi, and often performs miracles or acts of magic. The only other New Testament miracle worker to appear is Peter, the second most common figure on the sarcophagi, whose wand, unlike Jesus', may also signify a staff of authority. Peter only uses a wand in conjunction with his non-canonical water miracle. We disagree with scholars who conclude that sarcophagus imagery was in any way out of step with ancient church fathers. We speculate that Peter's prominence in sarcophagus imagery and the prominence of his wand are related to desire of the early Roman church to establish apostolic succession from Jesus to Peter and then down to Roman bishops of the time. The claim of apostolic succession was strengthened by sending a visual message to viewers of Christian sarcophagi that Peter had been active in Rome.